


What a Difference a Few Years Make

by alltheglitters



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-28
Updated: 2012-04-28
Packaged: 2017-11-04 11:29:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltheglitters/pseuds/alltheglitters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eleven things that you might not know about Pansy Parkinson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Difference a Few Years Make

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday present for the lovely varjaks on Livejournal.
> 
> Disclaimer: in its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to Rowling and Bloomsbury publishing. This work of fiction is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.

"Growing up is such a barbarous business, full of inconvenience... and pimples." - _Peter Pan_ (2003).  
  
  
  
  
  
(01) Prior to the embezzlement charges, Mr Parkinson had billions of galleons. He and Mrs Parkinson were busy flashing their expensive watches and dress robes, leaving Pansy not particularly well-loved. She was fretted after, but not loved. After all, how much affection could a daughter demand from a soon-to-be barren mother and a father who longed for a male heir? Not that it mattered anymore in the new order for she was now disowned for not marrying a man she had never met.  
  
(02) Pansy was not in touch with her more emotional side. Up until the war, she did not know that she could cry, certainly not weep until the flashes of green light disappeared and the owls took flight at dawn. She sat there alone and sobbed with guilt until she passed out. Even in her dreams, she gave up on digging out of the rubble – she was nothing but a coward.  
  
(03) When Pansy Parkinson first stuck her tongue down Draco Malfoy’s throat, he immediately bit it. Hard. And it had hurt like a bitch. She stormed off, bleeding and swearing. They didn’t talk for a week. He later told her that her mouth didn’t taste very pleasant. In fact, the phrase "cold steel rubbing against wood" was very insensitively used. That afternoon of passion was never repeated again, thank Nimueh, but he became her best mate as the years went by.  
  
(04) The first time she received a paycheque, she dashed into a Muggle shop and brought a camera (why didn’t these barbarians paint anymore?), a _kee-tle_ to boil water and a television. When she asked Draco for help, he said that he didn't like non-magical items and redirected her to Granger. The Golden Girl refused, forcing Harry Potter to help the ex-Slytherin. Though Potter had explained the differences between "circuit", "receiver" and "tuner", Pansy had rearranged the wires all by herself! Watching _Doctor Who_ with wide eyes, pride pulsed through her veins.  
  
(05) Without any particular talents nor the money to take a vocational course, she became a receptionist at the Ministry. The job was dull, but because she was in charge of scheduling, people _pretended_ to like her in order to be assigned their preferred workplaces and tasks. She revelled in her power.  
  
(06) "But he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!" were the most idiotic words she had ever said. As a result, she was forced to attend _five hundred_ hours of community service. When she discovered human teeth covered in jelly while cleaning at Knockturn Alley, she swore to never complain again. The promise was broken thirty minutes later when she Apparated back home and cried into her pink, floral pillow. Draco, who was her flatmate at the time, scoffed and offered her a glass of pumpkin juice.  
  
(07) While attending post-war counselling workshops, she often saw Harry James Potter stalk past the door. During the eighth week, he asked her to grab a drink with him at the pub. To her surprise, he didn’t yell. She, on the other hand, wanted to blame him for making her a social leper. Instead, she apologised. She was only a - (insert splutters) - a - a mere child, for Merlin's sake, her home was being invaded and she wanted You-Know-Who, aka Snakeface, to leave them alone! Was it too much to ask for safety in this grief-stricken, morally ambiguous era? Was it, Potter? Their fingers touched. "No."  
  
(08) Once Hydrangea Parkinson claimed that Pansy did not have the ability to take care of an animal, her daughter insisted on starting off with something small _er_ , like a goldfish. Her mother couldn’t say "no", right? At the end of their three-week experiment, she woke up to see a stuffed pony in her garden, which expanded into a colt upon her touch, alive, kicking and neigh-neigh-neeeighing. Mrs Parkinson was unaware that Pansy never fed the fish, but simply used a spell to make it waddle.  
  
(09) She was there because she stole Ms Hannah Abbott’s handwritten invitation. Though she wore a glamour to hide her features, Granger recognised her straightaway, angrily jabbing her wand. _I’m here to commemorate Dumbledore, of course,_ Pansy spat. She soon made a habit of attending post-war celebrations where members of the Order were present, hoping that some sort of good would sink into her.  
  
(10) It wasn't always Potter, you know. She pulled away initially, because of her insecurities and the fact that, thanks to her, he could well be dead. After they broke up for the third time, he showed up at her door. He, the blithering idiot, was drenched as he said, _I-let-Ron-borrow-my-broom-he-has-no-intention-of-returning-it-so-I-Apparrated-and-landed-faaaar-away-from-here._ This was also the first day that he – possibly – mumbled, _err-I-might-sort-of-love-you-yes._ So, a correction is in order: it wasn't always Potter, but since 18 August 2003 at precisely 3 am sharp, it was.  
  
(11) She didn’t grow into her nose, she grew out of it by contouring and through makeup. She couldn’t afford fancy outfits, but at least she had clothes in her wardrobe. In fact, you could say that she was happy – she fancied herself beautiful (hadn't she always?), had her own flat, friends (even if Granger only talked to her because of Potter), a bloke she didn’t do shite to deserve and a job with a decent salary. At twenty-five years old, Pansy Parkinson had, excuse the cliché and bring on the drumroll please, found her place in this world.


End file.
